Warrior of the Ministry
by Tridentwatch
Summary: After being raised by Bartemius Crouch the first, Harry finds that he enjoys working for the ministry.


THE WARRIOR OF THE MINISTRY

HARRY POTTER IS KIDNAPPED BY CROUCH AND RAISED BY HIM. WHAT HAPPENS WHEN HE GOES TO HOGWARTS? WILL HE RESIST VOLDEMORT'S EVIL OR DUMBLEDORE'S JUST AS EVIL MANIPULATIONS?

Chapter One: Taken

The man smirked as he apparated with a crack to Godric's Hollow. It appeared his informant was right. There had recently been an attack here, on the Potter family. He wanted to check for survivors, though he doubted it. No, what he came here to do was to salvage whatever he could before the aurors found out. He still could not believe the bet he lost to Bludgenous Garson, a mean and extremely shrewd auror.

Flashback

Bartemius Crouch and Bludgenous Garson laughed at the joke Crouch told as they smoked cigars in Crouch's new office. They were old friends and were celebrating the new promotion Barty got. He was the new head of magical law enforcement.

As they were drunk on firewhiskey and high on their Cuban cigars they were in joyous moods. They told jokes and stories and marveled at Crouch's new office. It was spacious, filled with luxurious furniture and exotic decorations. An elegant fireplace lay in the middle of the left wall and they sat on two conjured arm chairs in front of it. It was cold outside, as it was winter. That was when they made the bet.

"Hey Barty, what do you think about me being minister of magic?"

"Ha! That will happen when Dumbledore shaves his beard!"

"Pffft! I betcha that I will be minister of magic someday."

"Ha! Dream on." Bartemius scoffed at him and had an incredulous look on his face.

"No I am serious. Hell I will bet you a hundred thousand galleons that I will become Minister of Magic by the end of Halloween!" Garson was drunk and swayed a bit as he said this.

Crouch, who was not as drunk as his friend, smirked. He would take advantage of this situation for sure.

"Alright, fine. I will accept your wager if you agree to swear by your magic that you will uphold it. I will do the same of course." Bartemius Crouch said, smirking and looking like a wolf circling his prey.

Garson, still drunk and high was not thinking right. He agreed, something he would not normally do.

"I, Bludgenous Stree Garson, swear by my magic that I will uphold this bet and pay the victor, Bartemius Crouch, 100 000 galleons if he wins the bet if he agrees to pay me 100 000 galleons if I win this bet." Garson babbled slowly, stuttering along the way. His body did not take kindly to alcohol and he had a low tolerance level to it.  
"I Bartemius Crouch, swear by my magic to uphold the terms of this bet which was made on this very night. The bet being that if Garson becomes Minister of Magic by Halloween the next year I will pay him one hundred thousand galleons and if he doesn't than he has to pay me the agreed sum of one hundred thousand galleons." Crouch said gleefully in a hurry.

The next morning, when they were sober albeit with hangovers (though a simple charm got rid of it) they remembered the bet. Garson groaned with frustration. He was shocked at his stupidity as he was only a low level auror. How could he be the minister of magic?!

But he did it. He contacted lots of people and showed confidence and good humor thus impressing them. He traveled all over Britain in his spare time using the floo and talking to important people. He made himself known in the high-class social circles and thus it was with great effort he became the minister of magic.

End Flashback

When Crouch heard the news he was horrified. What a twist of irony for Crouch. He lost his large mansion, his bank account at Gringotts, the wizarding bank run by goblins, and all his possessions. When he foolishly refused withdrawing the bet when Garson requested numerous times made them enemies. And so it was no surprise that he was fired from his job. Thus disgraced and humiliated, his wife left him for some young pureblood with money and his son got arrested for being a death eater.

That was the breaking point for poor Bartemius Crouch's morals and principles. He did anything for money to feed himself while he lived in a small apartment near Hogsmaede. But soon he learned and with a couple of contacts within the death eaters he could learn when and attack had taken place.

He usually apparated there instantly and scavenged whatever he could, putting valuable objects into a bag charmed to hold as many things as possible and charmed to be weightless. It made him quite a bit of fortune. For some reason death eaters never stole from their victims. Especially muggle ones.

"Strange. Maybe they haven't thought of it yet?" Crouch asked himself as he moved to Godric's Hollow, the village in which a death eater attack had taken place. He quickly reached the burning house and recognized it to be the Potter's place of residence. James Potter was a fantastic auror, who used transfiguration mainly in battle and wielded it brilliantly. "Too bad he is dead now." Crouch said to himself.

The house was quite brilliant. It was big and looked fantastic, even now when it was burning. The garden of flowers that used to be on the front lawn were trampled over, the door broken, and the house on fire. Bartemius knew he would have to work fast and finish stealing the valuables before the aurors came.

He whispered a spell that conjured lots of water. It took a couple of minutes but soon the dreaded fire was out. He entered the house, walking swiftly and quietly like a panther. He was a very logical person, and thus always made sure to plan out his crimes on his feet, quick fast and extremely profitable crimes. He had a plan for looting houses. It was quite simple. All he did was go into a house, scream: "ACCIO VALUABLES" and point his wand at his brown bag. All the valuables, and the items that would fetch lots of money would swiftly flew in the bag. That was when he would apparated out, just as the aurors started to come in. But this was not to happen this time.

As Crouch walked into the house he noticed the destruction straight away; portraits were cracked and destroyed; the furniture was broken; and the walls reeked of dark magic.

"What the fuck happened here?" He thought.

He sighed, as he did the same thing he did to all houses. He knew there wasn't going to be many goods here.

"ACCIO VALUABLES!" He screamed, expecting lots of jewelry and exotic items to enter the bag.

It did not work. Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. He thought he did the spell wrong, but that thought was quickly shot down. He had done this lots of times. "What happened?" He thought in apprehension. He was no expert but something looked wrong...

He could sense the dark magic in the walls grow stronger, and thus concluded that the dark magic reeking from the walls absorbed his spell. He decided to just get out of here before the aurors came. One thing he did not want was to get caught and sent to Azkaban for being a death eater or something utterly ridiculous like that.

As he was just about to apparate, with the bag in his hand, something happened. A baby flew at him; he gasped in surprise.

"What the fu-" Bartemius Crouch stopped mid sentence as the baby flew into the bag. Then he heard something that he dreaded. Aurors!

"Who ever is there inside the house come out with your wand down!" Someone from outside shouted like a banshee. It was a female voice. Bartemius decided to just book it. He apparated. Or tried to, before he discovered the anti-apparation wards just put up on the house.

He cursed, muttering filthy swear words. "What will I do now?" He thought, trying to stay calm. He had to calm his nerves. No use panicking in this situation. He could not let the aurors catch him, for he was sure he would be locked up. He dreaded that. He would not be able to stand the humiliation, as he would probably be in a trial in front of the minister himself. Crouch shuddered.

He thought hard, trying to find someway to escape. That was when he suddenly thought of an idea. He screamed: "REDUCTO!"

It was a destruction spell, meant to blow things up. He had pointed it at the sidewall. When the spell hit the wall nothing happened. Bartemius cursed. He had forgotten about the dark magic on the walls. He was in a tight spot, and he was panicking.

Thoughts were racing in his head. "What to do! What the hell am I going to do?!" He was thinking in his head.

There were five aurors outside, two women and three men. They looked at each other in confusion; who put out the fire that was surely there? The tensed aurors could still smell the smoke in the air. Looking at each other they came to an agreement using sign language. A must learned skill for all aurors.

The two women sneaked around the house, as they were going to go threw the back door. The three men looked at each other and silently pointed their wands at the door. In unison they screamed: "EXPLORODA!"

It was a dark spell for sure, but it was twice as effective as the reducto curse. The aurors in front of the door smirked expecting an enormous hole that could be used as an entrance. Nothing happened. Unbeknownst to them the dark magic in the walls just absorbed the spells and grew stronger.

The smirks fell; they were all thinking in confusion; what happened?

The two women had much better luck as they were many times more sensible than their male counterparts. As they reached the back door, instead of blasting it open like reckless drunkards, they simply opened it. It worked too, until they found out that it was a trap. That was when the bad luck started...

The trap was put by James and Lily; one was an auror and the other an unspeakable, both more paranoid than the infamous "Mad-Eye Moody". Anyone would be if they were being actively targeted by Lord Voldemort, the infamous self proclaimed Dark Lord and his band of cruel cult like followers that the public fearfully called death eaters.

It was ingenious. As soon as they entered the house they fell into a big hole. The hole was a tiger pit, used in the Amazon rainforest by hunters trying to catch jaguars. It was basically a big hole dug up and filled with pointy and extremely deadly spikes. The hole was about ten feet deep and five feet wide. It was ingenious because the back door of the house opened into a room. The room had two entrances: The locked door and another door that was always kept locked with a padlock completely immune to magic. It was quite an expensive object...

Bartemius Crouch was filled with terror; he did not know what was going on. Surely he was going to be arrested by the aurors with no way to escape.

Calm down Barty, you have to control yourself. Control. Think happy things, peaceful things.  
Bartemius calmed himself with some difficulty and tried to think logically. It was already a couple of minutes since he heard the aurors' shouts. So they were probably either confused about the dark wall magic, whatever that was, or they were surrounding him trying to capture him. The next thing that Crouch thought of was his escape route. He could try the door, but that would be a very unwise solution as the aurors were waiting outside. He could try apparation again; maybe their wards were down? He snorted with undisguised disgust. That would never happen. But maybe I should try it? It can't hurt right?

For now, in his terror, he forgot about the baby in the bag he was holding. That would prove to be either a blessing or a mistake. Only time could tell.

Unknown to Barty Crouch the wards were put up by one of the women, who was probably dead in the tiger pit, and thus if he had tried to apparate he would have probably been successful. Unfortunately for him he did not. Instead he tried to make a portkey, even though he knew that the portkey would not take him directly to his destination.  
He picked up a small object that looked like a cipher of wood from a table or something and said in a whisper with lots of concentration the words to make a portkey.

"Portus Crouch apartment." He said. The cipher of wood that looked like a rectangular box like thing glowed blue. "It must have worked!" Barty concluded with astonishment. He had always tried to make portkeys, but he was never successful. If the object glowed green then the portkey would malfunction and he would probably end up somewhere in space or inside a rock. If it turned blue than that showed that it worked.

Bartemius sighed in satisfaction and relief as he pointed his wand at the portkey and said activate. He felt the common pull on his navel as he was pulled across space and time to his apartment near Hogsmaede.

The three aurors in the meantime were looking at the door in confusion and were trying over and over again to explode it with dark spells and curses. Soon the wall absorbed too much magic and started to glow an eerie black. The aurors watched in apprehension as the house glowed brightly.

An explosion was made, taking out the aurors and making a huge crater in the village of Godric's Hollow, and thus the alarms set off in Dumbledore's office bringing it to his attention. He set off, as did Sirius Black who felt that something was wrong in his best friend's house, and so did a few dozen aurors who found out about the crater due to their dark magic detectors. Meanwhile Bartemius Crouch was worrying over the baby that he accidentally kidnapped. He could not leave him on the streets. He was not that heartless. Bartemius sighed as he pondered over his wild and extremely unprofitable night.

The only one who was not negatively affected was Harry Potter, the baby who just defeated the dark lord by rebounding the killing curse. Bartemius Crouch would definitely be better than the Dursleys. If he decided to keep him...Who are the stonecutters; who are the best?

Who are they; who are far better than the rest?

Who controls the British crown?  
Who keeps the metric system down?  
We do! We do!  
Who leaves Atlantis off the maps?  
Who keeps the Martians under wraps?  
We do! We do!  
Who holds back the electric car?  
Who makes Steve Guttenberg a star?  
We do! We do!  
Who robs the cavefish of their sight?  
Who rigs every Oscars night?  
We do! We do!

We were walking down the street, a muggle street. We were heading to the bank, the muggle bank. It was time to put the hard worked plan into action, by my father and I. The plan was remarkably simple but absurdly difficult to pull off. We were working on this for many weeks now - staking out the bank, finding what patrols go where, when the bank manager comes, and so on.

It was not easy work of course, but we did it. And now we were going to put all that hard work in action. But first, let me explain who "we" are. We as in my father and I. My name for what it's worth is Harry James Potter, believed to be dead by the modern wizarding world. My father, who is not really my biological one, is Bartemius Crouch. The wizarding world has also forgotten about him, as they believe he is dead.

"Phillip, do you remember the plan?" Father asks me.

"Yes, sir." I answer. Father calls me Phillip Lombard now; he supposedly picked it up in a muggle book. I like that name, simple yet eloquent.

"Repeat it to me." Father demanded.

"We go near the bank, wait for the patrol to come past us and follow them near the alley. Then we stun them, tie them up and use poltyjuice potion to impersonate them. After wearing their uniforms we go into the bank and rob them!" I said with a smirk looking up at my father's calm face. In reality I was extremely nervous. It was my first heist!

Usually father did the bank robbing when we were broke. It was not as easy as people think because if he used magic the aurors would come down on him faster than he can say "Dumbledore has too many names!"

Father sighed. He was a reptilian old man, shrewd and cunning. He walked purposefully and looked like royalty in his black suit. It was a hot day, yet my father never once broke a sweat. He probably used some kind of cooling charm. Wish I had done that.

Yes, amazing isn't it? Even though I don't go to a magical school I know more about it than most of the students put together. That's because my father teaches me in his spare time. Spare time you ask? Well he is extremely busy. He has been trying to form some kind of secret group for years now. Ever since he saw something like it on a muggle TV show. It was called "The Simpsons". Certainly my favorite show. One day when I was watching it my father came and started to watch with me. It was the stonecutters episode and ever since then my father was trying to put together a similar organization. With the name Stonecutters. How original.

He never tells me if he succeeded or if he progressed in his ambitions. Around me he usually keeps quiet and talks about my life such as my school work.

Muggles. They are simply geniuses. I marveled at how they invented machines that could outstrip any magical device. A TV! And it was entertaining too. Too bad wizards are egoistic and prejudiced. I met some of the pureblood ones in Ireland. They walked like they had sharp metal objects stuck up their-

I sighed as I remembered Ireland. My father and I had traveled there to help one of his friends out. In that country they had a civil war. Well two civil wars actually, a muggle one and a wizarding one. In the wizarding part of the country the purebloods and the muggle-borns were battling for supremacy, while in the muggle part of the country two groups were fighting about some petty issue or another.

I stopped. I was doing it again. I was underestimating and undermining the muggles, something I had promised myself I would not do. They say old habits are hard to break. The people that said that don't know how true it actually is. Or maybe they do, they are the ones that said it after all.

In my life, traveling was the norm. That meant I could see a lot of interesting things, but I lacked in social skills. I never had a friend in my life. Well except for that cobra. But I had to kill it when he started to bite my father. Boy, was he scared of my parseltongue abilities!

He never told me why. Maybe it has something to do with my parents? All I know about them are... Nothing. I don't know anything about them. No matter how much I badgered my father he refused to tell me. I don't even know how he got me. Did he kidnap me or something? No, all I know is my name: Harry James Potter.

I tried researching the name, but my search yielded nothing. Well actually I kind of expected that - Who would keep old records of British people in Switzerland, or France? I think that is why my father always steered me away from England. But it was all right. Although I was curious I did not overly care. I had a good life, and I saw many things.

Take India for example. In Delhi, Cancador (a small village, now it is a city) they had elephants for transportation. And boy, were the streets crowded. The village was filled with huts and people stricken with poverty. I remember the funny thing my father did. He looted a bank and threw all the money in a big pile in the middle of the street. Of course people rushed to it and it was soon gone. That is one way to make your "transactions" untraceable. We even traveled by train one time, first class of course. The weather was scorching but it was an interesting time for sure...

Currently we were in Florence, Italy. We traveled a lot, usually keeping to the muggle world but sometimes I was allowed to see the sights of magic. Or I just sneaked there. Either way. I was fifteen years old, and all my life I traveled with my father. I have been to many places, enjoying the sights and the sounds while my father completed his criminal activities. It started to get boring after a while, especially since my father never let me come along on whatever nefarious thing he was doing next.

But this time it was different. After many hours of nagging he finally let me come along with him to heist a bank. The bank was called Malachi Ritz; in Italian it supposedly means safety or something queer like that.

So we were walking down the street, the crowded street, towards the bank which was about a few kilometers away. I looked up at my father, the only person I trusted in the entire world. He was old for sure, but his black shrewd eyes sparkled with vibrant life. He walked with his back straight, confidently commanding respect from everyone around him. The crowd parted as we walked unconsciously. We were dressed in expensive suits after all. It pays to be respected.

A few minutes later we approached the humongous building. People went through the glass doors, in and out. Two guards in green military uniforms with guns in their belts stood stationed outside; it was customary, we expected it. Soon the guards would patrol the building twice around and go home while another pair of guards took their place.

"Alright, lets circle back and wait. Don't do anything quick or suspicious, just smile and walk calmly, confidently and collected. Remember the three Cs I drilled into your head." Father whispered to me. We did exactly that. We walked to the side of the building and waited in the alley. And we waited some more.

Soon two guards came, walking arrogantly and talking about going to a casino later at night...

"Stupefy!"

"Stupefy!"

We simultaneously whispered the stunning spells at the two men. They fell to the cement like rocks.

Soon we were looking and were dressed as guards. Father and I walked to the back entrance of the Malachi Ritz bank; it was an inconspicuous entrance that appeared haggard and dirty. After many weeks of observation we concluded that the guards must have the keys with them to open the back door. So we searched in our pockets.

"Aha! Here is the key. Ok let's go! Remember, we go in the middle of the bank, shoot the gun into the air and tell everyone to drop to the floor. Then we tell the clerk to put as much money as she can into the bag I magically charmed." He said as he looked at me,

"I have a bad feeling about this. Be careful, son."

I nodded my head. This must be serious; he never showed emotions if he could help it. He opened the door and entered. I followed him into the passageway that must have lead to the main office area. We followed the passageway and soon enough we reached the enormous room. People were working and rushing here and there as the chatter seemed like a thousand drums smashed into my ear. Saying it was merely loud was an understatement.

My father, who I shall now refer to as Mr. Lombard, walked into the middle of the room. I stood to the side. He raised his gun from his hostler on his waist and pointed it towards the ceiling. He shot the gun with a bang. Silence reigned upon the bank as everyone stopped and looked towards the source of the commotion.

"STOP EVERYBODY! SLOWLY LOWER YOURSELF TOWARDS THE FLOOR. NOBODY TRY ANYTHING OR ELSE YOU WILL GET HURT. JUST STAY OUT OF IT AS IT IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" I marveled at how calmly he shouted this as if he was reciting what he had for breakfast today. He looked positively dangerous and I saw many people immediately doing what he ordered. It was amazing how he could command such respect anywhere he went, like a strange ghostly quality... What did the muggles call it? Charisma?

Mr. Lombard walked like a panther over to a clerk who was cowering in fear. He whispered to her slowly, but I could hear it as everyone else could too in the deep silence.

"Get as much money as you can and put it into this bag here. Just keep getting money. If you try anything strange I will kill you and everyone else in the bank." Mr. Lombard said coldly. I was without a doubt that he would do it too. My father was a dangerous man when he wanted to be.

I knew my job. I was supposed to cover for him. If anyone tried to stab him in the back, so to speak it was my job to eliminate them. I was not sure if I could do it, I had never killed anyone before. I had got into fights, but killing! Harsh life this is...

The clerk nodded her head as fast as she could, and gulped. She was visibly frightened. I cast my eyes around the room. By now, everyone was on their knees on the floor. Slowly I looked towards the door. The other guards! I had forgotten about them in my excitement. They were sneaking slowly as they opened the glass door and walked towards Mr. Lombard aiming their guns towards his back while he faced the clerk.

I steadily grabbed the gun from the hostler and took aim. It was the first time I had shot a person before and my heart was hammering away. I wished I could use magic but I am sure that the Italian aurors had wards around here and would come and arrest us in minutes. I for one did not want to go to prison.

As I steadily aimed for the first guard's lower abdomen, the easiest part to hit, and pulled the trigger. I did not even notice the sweat running down my face as I promptly shut my eyes when I heard the bang. I opened my eyes slowly and looked at the crouching guard's blood running down from his stomach. I felt like vomiting.

The other guard looked shocked as my father turned around and shot him between the eyes without hesitation. I was quite shocked myself. Never had I imagined he would kill so ruthlessly without thought. But I supposed in his criminal line of work it was to be expected.

But I was scared. Not of my father, but of the excitement I felt when I saw the guards being killed. It shocked me. I just kept staring at the two guards groaning and screaming in pain with half joy and half disgust. It felt good to shoot that gun; I could not deny that.

When I looked back to my father, I saw that he was done. I also saw a bullet lodged into the forehead of the clerk! I looked suspiciously at my father who just shrugged.

"I told her to follow my rules..." He just said. The other customers of the bank looked scared and shocked as well.

Mr. Lombard just walked out of the bank by the main entrance and onto the street. I followed him reluctantly. I think, now that I recall that I was in a state of extreme stress and anxiety that I just felt hollow- kind of like I was given the dementor's kiss. My father took my hand and apparated us out of here to our apartment. It was luxuriously spacious with expensive furniture bought in Malaysia.

He took me in front of an extremely large window and seated me in a green and gold patterned armchair. He sat in front of me on a stool and looked me in the eye. I could tell he was serious and was ready to give me one of his "talks".

"Listen, Phillip. I want to tell you something." He began. I turned to him and paid my utmost attention. This looked important.

"Yes, father? What is it?" I said while my father looked at me strangely and sighed.

I did not know what he was thinking but I knew this was pretty strange. Maybe it was about my parents! Or it could be about my snake talking abilities? Hmm, maybe it was about the murder today at the bank. I was still horrified about that.

But it was neither.

Father looked uncomfortable. That was a first. I raised my eyebrow in surprise and looked at him questionably. He started talking.

"One day son, you will have to do this. And then you will know how hard it is for me to do it." A pause.

"What I wanted to talk to you about was..."

"Yes father, what is it?" I asked impatiently.

"Sex!" He blurted out.

My jaw dropped. What the hell!

"Look son, when a man and a woman meet each other and get attracted to each other they do things. And these things give them pleasure. It is really a very normal thing to do... You don't understand do you? Well don't worry, that's normal. Let me explain in greater detail..."Chapter 3 - The Amazon River

I soaked my body in the hot steaming water. I was currently sitting in the tub in the washroom. It was a tiring day as I recalled the conversation I had. I could not believe he actually gave me the "talk". But I supposed he did this to get my mind of things. It worked, that's for sure.

After counting the cash in the bottomless and weightless bag we concluded that we had over a million American dollars. That was strange because it was an Italian bank. But I paid it little attention since I was more focused on thinking what to do.

I love baths. They give much time for thinking and relaxation that you would not normally get in a busy life. Busy life? Well yes, I have a very busy life.

I need to have my education first off all. And since my father is not here much I need to find ways to amuse myself. I do this by going out and trying to find magical folk to learn from. Once, in Swahili, Africa I learned a cool voodoo ritual. It is dark and evil so I have only tried it on dogs. Man I hate those slobbering filthy mutts. I think I should kill all of them.

"Make way for the dark lord Harry Potter, a.k.a Phillip Lombard! He is the slayer of all dogs. Bow down on your knees and gawk and squawk at his mighty greatness!"

I imagined a man would say, introducing me in front of hundreds of thousands of people all bowing down in respect. Hmmm, while I was fantasizing I could add a couple of veelas playing strip poker in the background...

I shook my head, and started to soap my hair. My hair was always messy. It never stayed organized. I hated it because it was going against my life principles. They were to always be organized, clean, and sharp. Maybe I have some kind of brain problem or something but I just can't stand the sight of a messy room or a messy piece of writing. It gets on my nerves, although my father is exactly the opposite. I have seen his writing and let me tell you it is utterly atrocious.

I put a white soft and fluffy towel around me. I did not like to dry off; instead I liked to watch the water droplets run down on my body, forming lakes and rivers. Or so I imagined.

"Phillip, I have something important to tell you. And no it is not about sex. I just said that to take your mind of things." My father said to me, looking haggard as I dressed myself and stepped out of the bathroom.

He went to the living room, a place filled with exquisite sofas and armchairs, and I followed curiously. What did he want? I wondered.

"I know today what you saw was hard, but it is reality. It is a dog kill dog world out there, and only the toughest survive son." I scowled, didn't the guy I was living with for the past fifteen years know already that I hated dogs?

"You saw some people being murdered and you are probably thinking why I did it or was it necessary. Well let me tell you tha-" I cut him off mid sentence as I started a long tirade:

"What are you talking about? You killed the clerk for no reason, I saw you!" I exclaimed. I was outraged. He killed in front of me and he was trying to justify it or something?

"Listen to me and be quiet. I will not tolerate bad mouthing!" My father stated angrily. I forgot. My father was probably the strictest man in the world. His policy about children was that they were to be seen and not heard. So whenever he was talking I had to shut my mouth and listen. Unfair? Oh yes, but then again when was life fair? Life was fantastic, but fair?

"Alright, now as I was saying, you saw some bad things today. And as you said I will justify them to you. Imagine lions. Do they not hunt and kill for their food? Well we do the same thing, we hunt and we kill. For money, which is like our food. So you see, killing is perfectly all right as long as you do it for a good reason. It is the way life works. Animals kill all the time, so do humans. We kill in wars and what not. Aren't wars that are for some petty reason or another infinitely worse than just killing for what you need?"

It sounded like he practiced what he was going to say. He was giving a speech or something! Although my father was a compelling figure and very good at giving speeches now was not the time. I had a long day and I was tired. I just wanted to go to sleep and forget about killing and robbing banks. Money was good and all but I had a sense of principles. At least that is what I think...

"Yes, father. I understand what you are saying. Can I go to sleep please?" I really did not understand whatever the hell he was blabbering about but I just did not have the energy right now.

"Good! I knew you would see it my way. Tomorrow we are going to Brazil so sleep well!" He exclaimed in joy.

When I heard him utter that sentence I froze. Brazil! What the hell? I sighed. I am sure he had some reason or another, but we just finished a big heist. I wanted some peace for once, and to stay in one place for some time at least!

I went up to my room. The house we were living in had five large bedrooms. We did not pay rent as this was a muggle house and my father likes to practice his confundous charms on muggles. Cheap bastard!

Now don't get me wrong, I love that man more than anything but he had his flaws. Lots of flaws.

I sighed again, probably for the hundredth time today as my head hit my pillow. It was comfortable. My last thoughts as I drifted off to sleep were: What does he want in Brazil?

Well, he wanted something. And that something was a grand something, a fantastic something. That I was sure off, because I saw the look on his face when he told me we were going to Brazil was a look a homeless man would make when they find that they just won a million trillion billion dollars. Yup, that look.

I woke up the next morning extremely grouchy. Then I had some coffee. Caffeine: The cure to grouchiness.

We traveled to Brazil by muggle plane. Barty or Mr. Lombard or whatever the hell his name was liked to be "secure". Paranoid little shit!

As you can probably tell my opinion of my father lowered significantly since the murder heist. I tried not to think about that but my thoughts would invariably turn to that if I let it shift away.

The ride to the airport was long and boring. We were carrying a bag each, charmed to be weightless and bottomless. Like always. Inside the bag we had our clothes, money, objects, money, more clothes, did I mention money? Yup, we had a lot of money with us. Now you might wonder if airport security would catch us. Well, I think that is why some hippy invented the impervious charm...

The ride to Brazil was boring. More boring than anything I have ever done. Although watching the hot chicks...err stewardesses was pretty good. I think I had more pretzels on the plan than in my entire life. When the lady bends down to give me the bag of pretzels I get a nice view of her cleavage.

Do you know what sucks? Being a virgin. I wish I could just go to a bar, cast some glamour charms to look 18 and pick up some hot chick. Actually that is not a bad idea. I am definitely going to try that in Brazil.

What was Brazil like anyways? Probably like India or something. Lots of forests and a whole lot of poor people. Maybe a couple of exotic birds, or something. Brazil sounds like fun: exotic location, exotic chicks, beaches, bars, and drugs.

I could try all that. I am sure my dear papa would be busy and all. Dammit! I should have done that before. Now don't get me wrong, I am not a pervert. I am just a hot-blooded teenager. So is it so wrong to think of dirty things like that? Now if you are reading this and you have a broomstick stuck up your ass or something, just do the world a favour. Dung your head in a toilet and...

I am not making much sense am I? As I am writing this on the plane in a thin muggle notebook I notice my father, who is looking out the window. He frowned. Holy shit! Was he looking at the window's reflection and reading this? I better continue this later.

Brazil is nothing like I imagined. The streets have potholes in them and the weather channel keeps on repeating the same thing every minute: Hot and Humid!

I read somewhere that Brazil gets nine feet of water per year. I can believe that. If it is not raining it looks cloudy, and then it rains. It is pretty peaceful here though, especially the mornings. The sunrise is probably the main attraction over here.

As for the whole going to a bar plan... Well I am just about to do that. But first I have to wait till my father is asleep. Then I can sneak out.

We made some plans today. I found out why he was so anxious to get to Brazil. He was anxious, the way he was jittering about in the Brazilian airport looking around and saying hi to strangers.

I kept wondering what was going on. Why was my father acting strangely? What am I missing? I love detective stories, and puzzles. It intrigues me because they are like a big jigsaw puzzle. You have to get the clues and arrange them in a way to see the big picture. Only then can you understand what is going on.

I sighed as I sat up on my bed and looked at the clock on the shelf. 9:20 P.M? Only 2 minutes? Aargh! I sigh a lot as you can imagine, mainly because my life is frustrating. I keep trying to guess what my father does with his time. That is a real puzzle. Whenever I snoop around in his stuff he has wards up. It is not fun being covered in purple jelly and having turkey feathers thrown at you. Not fun at all.

Well now I know why he wanted to go to Brazil. He was going to have his first stonecutters meeting and he was going to let me sit in and watch. Not involve myself, just watch.

Tomorrow we are going to be sailing to the Amazon River to get to Jahadla, a little village where my father is going to be hosting the first stonecutters meeting. I was quite curious as to who the members were going to be. Maybe they were the people he was waving at all the time? Well in tomorrow's meeting they were going to discuss who was going to be the leader and their goals and plans. I know, as my father gave me an overview. Actually he was just talking to himself trying to quell his nervous anxiety. No use stressing! That's one of my mottos. I have a lot of mottos such as:

If you can get away with illegal thingies than do it.

If you get caught lie and deny.

Keeping calm is the best way of lying.

Ya they aren't original or anything. Myeh, I don't care. Those are the rules I live by. And I have done some pretty stupid things, but somehow I have never been caught. I have more mottos and things, I think. I pull out my bag, a brown one, and fish around for a book. I pull out my favorite one: a battered copy of "The Art of War by Sun Tzu" . I turn the pages rapidly and look around. I have read the whole book a few times over now. It really helps in chess when I play against my father. It helps me not be bored as I pretend the little pawns are front line soldiers and the queen is a spy from the enemy and...

I sigh again as I look at the clock. 9:34 P.M.

I am waiting until midnight. By then my father would be asleep. But I am pretty tired. Jet lag and all that stuff. I decide to lie down for a bit. I have lots of time after all...

God I hate my life! It turns out I slept the whole night. I really wanted to try beer too. I wake up and look around, squinting due to the white sunlight coming from the window. I take note of the place my father and I are currently residing. It is a hotel room: Holiday Inn. I didn't know they had that here.

I get dressed quickly and look around for my wand. It is a generic one, because I could not find one yet that would suit me. Generic wands are usually available in China and can be used by anyone. They are illegal, as you can't use Priori Incantum to check what spells you have done. So if you use an unforgivable curse, (those things are illegal in all countries according to some treaty or something) then nobody can trace it to you. Thus it is illegal. But generic wands were my only choice. Although I could use some other wand it would not work as well as a generic wand. Well actually, generic wands suck too. They use up too much magical power and the powerful ritual spells that I found in Ireland from some pureblood's library books don't work.

In Ireland lots of pureblood mansions get pillaged by the muggle borns so it's free for all. Usually they burn the books but I managed to salvage some of the dark ones. Hehe, I smirked as I remembered that.

I never showed it to my father because he is a dark- magic- phobic. But I have a feeling he knows. Sometimes when he looks at me his eyes twinkle and I feel unnaturally open and as if I am being read like a book. Weird, huh?

I walked to the washroom and look in the mirror. My green eyes stand out against my otherwise plain face if it wasn't for a hideous looking scar shaped like a lightning bolt residing over my left eyebrow. My hair is messy as always, pointing in different directions. I try to use a comb to control it a bit but it was no use.

I looked outside the small washroom window. The bright light hits my face as I opened it and deeply breathe in the fresh air, a ritual of mine whenever I come to a different place. Air smells different in different places.

I quickly wash my face and head down to the kitchen where I see my father already eating breakfast. Father is always an early riser.

Father looked at me and stared quickly. He said in a firm voice: "Pack your bags. We are leaving soon to the harbour on the Amazon River. I heard its really good sailing in this time of year. Be sure you are ready."

He nods at me. A man of few words he is. But his words are quite powerful. I don't really know how to describe it. It just compels you to listen, like some sort of aura.

I quickly ate my breakfast and soon before I knew it I was in the harbour.

My father and I were waiting around the small crowd that looked like rich people on vacation. I also saw my father going around and greeting everyone for some reason. There were only twenty people there and my father looked as if he knew them all. I frowned but decided I would figure it out later. Besides, riding the Amazon might be fun!

Soon the boats came, piloted by a few natives. They had long oars that they used to paddle their boats. They came up to us and told us to come into the boats. That was strange! They talked in English.

We started the riding. It would supposedly take us three hours to reach . I took out my wand, and cast a translation spell on myself.

"Translatio Manactra!"

This spell did not use much power, just concentration and will. Basically when you look at a person you will be speaking the language he is most comfortable with. It only worked on humans, not animals. It took me a while to get this but it sure was worth it. A rare spell invented by some smart guy I suppose.

"Hello, what is Jahadla like?" I asked in his native language. That translation spell was a godsend.

The native looked surprised that I knew his language. I smirked, faintly. God, I loved surprising them.

"It is like every other city in Brazil. It is crowded and filled with garbage!" He said vehemently. I looked up at him in surprise. What was wrong with him?

"You do not like it?"

He scowled and answered me: "No. I am only doing this to earn enough money to travel to America. That is where the good life is!"

I raised my eyebrows, confused.

"Why do you want to go to America? What is wrong with your country?"

The native surprisingly smiled at me. I became even more confused.

"In Brazil it is crowded, and jobs are few. But in America I will start a business and make a good life for myself. Look around you, all you see is poverty. You do not know how hard life is. You have money, and you are on vacation. But me, I am poor. All I have is a small hut. So I am trying to earn money and educate myself through public schools. I work as an assistant teacher. When I go to America I will go to college and get a good job. That is my dream!" He said enthusiastically, smiling with a glazed look in his eyes. If I looked closely, which I did, I could see some tears in his eyes. Wow, what an emotional guy!

My father was sitting next to me and he had a strange look on his face. Sympathy?

I looked at him, a question on my lips. But before I could ask he said: "Yes."

Father leaned towards the native and whispered after he cast the translation charm on himself: "Take us to Jahadla and when we get there I will give you enough money to get to America."

The native looked disbelieving at him. He was shocked, stunned, excited...

When examining the scenery to Jahadla, I noticed the birds. The birds were in many colors and of many kinds, but the ones that caught my attention was the parrots. They were in various different colors and chirped and whistled. Wow, astonishing! This place was beautiful. From the green trees and crowded bushes, to the monkeys and snakes. The fish in the river swam with grace, and as the breeze ran through my hair I thought about coming back here after my father was done whatever business he had to.

I was quite curious as to what business he had to do. Little did I know how much it would change my life in ways I never imagined. 


End file.
